I went year-listing in Norfolk at the
weekend. I think I may have left it a little late, as I was only on 195. After a
successful day I am now on 203, but this is approximately the total I would hit
in April if I were taking it seriously. Clearly I am not taking it seriously,
and whilst at various stages I have both decried and embraced listing, 2014 will
be my lowest ever total by a wide margin. I think I need to do better. I am not
saying that I am going to go all out and smash it in 2015, but if you do at
least pay a little bit of attention to listing, which patently I have not this
year, then you will spur yourself on to see a few more birds. That’s the answer
really – call it what you will, add a listing element if you want, but just go
birding. If you do, you’ll see more birds than I have this year. For instance,
my 200th bird was a returning Pink-footed Goose in a skein
high above Warham Greens. How is this even possible, how did I manage not
to see a Pink-footed Goose last winter? We were searching for a Red-breasted
Flycatcher that the ever-productive John Furze had just found, and the sounds
came floating down. I recognized it immediately of course – I’d seen hundreds of
birds in Iceland relatively recently – but that’s not the point. It means that
throughout the whole of the last winter period, I had not birded the coast. Not
been to north Norfolk, not been to the Yare Valley. But it gets worse -
Black-necked Grebe was a year tick too! In other words I have seemingly not been
birding anywhere. That’s not quite true of course. I had been to Morocco
– twice – and also to Cyprus during the winter period. It’s true that there
weren’t many Black-necked Grebes and Pink-footed Geese, but there were
outstanding numbers of Moussier’s Redstarts and Cyprus Pied Wheatears, neither
of which we could find yesterday on the coast despite giving it a really good
bash. Time is the killer, but still.
Go. Birding.
Go. Birding.
Nick, Bradders and I had a relatively
leisurely start, and didn’t arrive at Blakeney until about 9am. It was cold! I’d
been told to expect a nice warm day, wandering around in shirt sleeves not
seeing very much, but it was murky with a stiff breeze blowing and newly-arrived
Wheatears clinging to the sea wall. We quickly located the juvenile Red-backed
Shrike sheltering in a bush, and then went off to bird Friary Hills for a bit.
Nothing much doing here, so we pootled off to Warham Greens, always a favourite
place to go birding on an autumn easterly. We started at the Stiffkey end and
gradually worked our way west, picking up a couple of Redstarts and a Pied
Flycatcher. As we arrived at the most-westerly track, Garden Drove, we could see
a group of birders moving cautiously down towards us. We stayed put as they
pushed down, and saw a couple of Spotted Flycatchers in with various Tits, but
the real prize was a Red-breasted Flycatcher that eventually showed very well
indeed. Such smart little birds, I’ve now seen eight – simply by virtue of going
birding, incredible! Remarkably I’d seen one down this exact track almost two years ago. I
think it’s what they call a site having a track record. So almost impeccable
timing on our part. Arriving half an hour earlier and finding it ourselves would
of course have been perfect timing!
We birded our way slowly back to the car via
various Buntings, Wheatears and Finches, and following a spot of lunch in Wells,
parked up next to the track that led down to Burnham Overy and Gun Hill. The
hope was that with the freshening breeze, more and more migrants would start
arriving. Although we bumped into Nick, Clare and Tony who confirmed that this
did appear to be the case, beyond a few more Whinchat, Wheatear and a Redstart,
we couldn’t conjure anything better up. A few Yellow-browed Warblers further
east raised our hopes a bit, but I think it’s probably all going to be about
this week and next, it’s east all the way and Shetland could be immense. Seeing
as it wasn’t heaving, we decided to devote a small amount of time to the Barred
Warbler that had been there a couple days. Barred Warblers being what they are,
there was nothing happening, and so after seeing a Garden Warbler, cynicism and
boredom got the better of Bradders and he wandered off. He had however failed to
appreciate the significance of eating a Double Decker. Nick and I both had one,
and whilst I promptly fell asleep, Nick stayed awake and the subtle magic
started to work. Thus almost imperceptibly I became aware of a very shouty man
in the dunes…… “It’s there!” “In the Elder!!”
Eh? What’s an Elder? I think I need to work
on my bush identification skills. By now fully awake due to shouty man, I
managed to work out which bush it was, namely as it was the only one with a
bloody huge Warbler in it. Ah, so that’s what an Elder looks like. The Warbler
actually moved with surprising grace for a large lump – much like me – and was
in complete contrast to the Garden Warbler, which basically performed a series
of large belly flops in a bramble. I took a series of piss-poor shots with which
to grip off Bradders, and we proceeded back towards the car as it was now
approaching 6pm – no wonder I was tired….. On the way back we finally saw the
elusive Black-necked Grebe (a likely Norfolk tick for me, except it wasn’t as I
had seen one in exactly the same place six years and day ago), and then
performed our good deed for the day by pushing a Merc off a bank following a
parking fail by another birder that had left one of the rear wheels spinning in
mid-air and the body of the car grounded on the grass.
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